Drabbles
by Moonsp1r1t
Summary: Random drabbles, mostly featuring Altair and Malik that don't fit anywhere else.
1. Chapter 1: Abbas and Malik

Malik leaned over the railing above the training ring, watching the Mentor play with his two young sons. The two chased him around with wooden swords, but he wasn't really trying to evade them. He allowed the two of them to tackle him to the ground, where they laid, laughing, in a pile. As Malik watched them, he felt a smile tug gently at the corners of his lips.

"What does he think he's doing?" sneered a voice from next to him.

Malik turned to see Abbas. He, too, was looking down at Altaïr, Darim, and Sef, though there was an expression on his face of distaste. His eyebrows were drawn together, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his spine was straight; he was not leaning casually against the railing as Malik was.

Malik raised an eyebrow at him. "What does it look like he's doing? He's spending time with his children."

"This is not the way of the assassin." Abbas growled, "Ever since he's become Grand Master, Altaïr has changed the foundation of the order!"

"He is doing his best to improve the order." Malik said calmly.

"He spits at tradition!" Abbas hissed.

Malik released a sigh through his nose. His eyes closed momentarily in an attempt to keep a neutral expression before turning back towards Abbas. "Tradition reminds us of our heritage, but must not chain us to the past. The world is ever changing, and it is our duty and nature as human brings to rise to meet these changes. For Altaïr, that means spending time with his children, rather than having them grow up without really knowing who their father was, the way Rashid Ad-Sinan had us grow up." he added with a wry smile.

If possible, Abbas's scowl deepened. He tore his gaze away from Altaïr and his children, and regarded Malik with an icy gaze. Malik stared back at him, waiting for him to speak.

"How can you support him so?" Abbas demanded, "That man," he jabbed a finger down at the training ring. "Took your arm. Your brother. Your career as an assassin. Don't you think that he should pay for what he's done?"

The easy smile melted from Malik's lips. Honestly, there were times when it seemed like just yesterday that he, Altaïr, and Kadar had crept down into the depths of Solomon's Temple. Some nights, the nights where the phantom pain in his arm was the worst, Malik would awaken with that very question in his mind, and he would question why he was supporting and helping Altaïr. He would often leave his room and walk through the cold stone halls of Masyaf, trying to work through his mood. More often than not, Altaïr would join him, undoubtedly haunted by the terrible visions the Apple showed him. Neither of them ever spoke; they always looked over the grounds of Masyaf, sorting through their dark thoughts, in silence, each grateful for the other's companionship. They grew closer, in those silences.

Malik glanced down at Altaïr again, with his children before turning towards Abbas once more. "No." he said, "That Altaïr, the one we see down there playing with his children, is not the same Altaïr that took away my arm or killed Kadar. Yes, I am angry at the Altaïr that displayed such arrogance in Solomon's Temple. However, that Altaïr is dead. He has been gone for years. I am positive he will not return."

Abbas studied Malik for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before he snorted in disgust and stalked away. Malik stared after him in dismay until he felt Altaïr's presence at his side. Malik glanced at him to see that he was holding up Sef with one arm, who was asleep with his head against his father's shoulder, and the other hand was holding Darim's, who was yawning and rubbing his eyes. Altaïr himself was frowning.

"Conflict," Malik said truthfully.

Altaïr's frown deepened, but he didn't say anything. Malik punched him lightly on the shoulder, the smile returning to his face.

"C'mon, I'll help you put these two to sleep, and then we have some reports to go over."


	2. Chapter 2: Drunk

Altaïr staggered up the hill, an empty bottle held loosely in one hand. His vision was blurry, and the ground beneath him seemed to shift and churn like water, much like how his intestines were doing. The assassins who stared at him, but no one stopped to speak to him. At least, no one stopped to speak to him until Malik approached him. Altaïr grinned at him sloppily.

"There you are." he snapped, his hand against his hip, "I was looking all over for-" he stopped short. "Are you drunk?"

"Maybe a jist a little." Altaïr admitted, still grinning. He squinted at him, the smile melting from his face. "I don't like it."

"Being drunk?" Malik sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

"Yerr robes." Altaïr slurred, "You shouldn't be wearing that. It's... still weird seeing you in the robes of a _Dai._"

Malik rolled his eyes. "Right. Well, lets get you back to the fortress and to bed."

He moved forward and slung Altaïr's arm over his shoulders. The Mentor's other hand dropped the bottle, sending it crashing to the ground. Malik half-dragged Altaïr back up to the citadel, muttering about how stupid he was.

"You complete _moron_, Altaïr." Malik grumbled, "What were you thinking, getting drunk like this?"

"It's a handy thing yerr here, then, right Maalik?" Altaïr said, grinning up at his companion sloppily, "Geddit, Malik? _Hand_-y? It's funny, 'cause you're not really handy, are you?"

Altaïr gave a weak chuckle, but Malik remained silent. Altaïr looked up at him to see that his eyebrows were drawn together, and he was staring straight ahead. Altaïr frowned, is own eyebrows drawing together.

"Zzzorry." said Altaïr, "That was mean, wasn't it?"

"It's fine." Malik said, but Altaïr could tell that he was attempting to remain nonchalant. He had known him long enough to detect the slight irritation in his tone.

"Zzorry." Altaïr repeated.

"I'm used to it." Malik insisted.

Altaïr frowned. "Haaave people been making fun of you?"

Malik ignored the question. "I was more taken aback that you were joking. I haven't heard you do so since we were teenagers." he smirked down at him, "Maybe you should get drunk more often."

"Will do." Altaïr said, mock-saluting.

"Don't." Malik warned, his face falling back into it's usual frown, "Judging by how you look and your behavior, you won't remember any this come tomorrow."

"You zay that lak it's a baad thing." Altaïr slurred.

"How much did you drink, anyways?" Malik snapped.

"Only on bottle, I promizz." insisted Altaïr.

By that time, they had reached Altaïr's room, the room that had once belonged to the previous mentor. Malik pushed him down onto his bed somewhat roughly.

"Tell that to your hangover." Malik sighed, "Get some sleep."

"Whaaatevr you zay, Maalik." Altaïr said, his face pressed into his pillow.

Malik threw his black djellaba over him, so that he was left wearing the sleeveless tunic underneath. Altaïr barely took notice, however, and was asleep by the time the _Dai_ had left the room.

The next morning, Altaïr woke with a pounding headache. He sat up groggily and rubbed at his eyes, Malik's djellaba sliding off of him and landing in a heap at his waist. Altaïr picked it up with two fingers and inspected it while his other hand rubbed at his temples. He slid out of bed and hobbled out of the room, dragging the robes behind him, much like how a child would drag his favourite blanket. He found Malik bent over some designs for a new type of hidden blade that Altaïr had been developing, still in his sleeveless tunic.

"Ah, so he lives." Malik remarked, smirking.

"What happened?" Altaïr groaned.

"You got drunk. I'll take that back now, thank you." Malik said flatly, holding out his hand for his robes.

Altaïr handed them over obediently. He flopped back down into a near by chair with a groan, while Malik shrugged the djellaba back on. "I mean what happened specifically?"

"You were down in the village getting drunk, and I found you on the hill while you tried to get back." Malik said shortly, "So I put you to bed. I told you you wouldn't remember it in the morning; I see you have proved me right, once again, Altaïr."

Altaïr squinted at him as if trying to see if he was telling the truth. "I guess." he admitted, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Malik said, without a glance backwards.


End file.
